


On the Ropes

by 42hrb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, BAMF Stiles, College Student Stiles, Future Fic, M/M, POV Stiles, Post canon, Stiles-centric, Tall Stiles, boxer stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/pseuds/42hrb
Summary: College is a time for growth for Stiles, both literally and figuratively. With the help of his college friends he finds an outlet for all the anger and frustration he has in his life.And then Derek Hale finds him. He's not exactly mad about it.





	On the Ropes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> This fic has been sitting in my head for months and it's been a slow process, but I'm a sucker for Stiles growing into his own skin and I had to write it so here it is. 
> 
> Thanks to Gabs for the beta and Inell for the cheerleading!

Stiles loved DC. He loved the sounds that the city made, even at night. He loved his classes. He loved his new friends, the ones whom he had never hurt, and who had never hurt him. It felt like a fresh start for him, something that he hadn’t realized he was longing for until he had it. Even though the quality of the air in DC was surely worse than it had been back in Beacon Hills, he finally felt like he could breathe.

He had always thought that college would mean less free time, but he discovered that when he wasn’t spending his nights researching one supernatural crisis after another, he had time to sleep and do his homework. Beyond that, he had time to actually have a life.

It turned out that Stiles didn’t do well with free time. He joined an intramural soccer team with a group of his friends, he found a couple clubs on campus where he fit in, he started getting a full 8 hours of sleep a night, but none of it was enough. He still had too much time on his hands.

That’s where his new and probably-soon-to-be-best friend Erin came in.

“Come down to my gym with me! I swear you won’t be disappointed,” Erin said one night as they walked back from their soccer game. “If you are, I’ll buy you two pizzas.”

“Two?” That caught Stiles’ interest. He was a poor college student after all; two pizzas was at least two days worth of food.

She nodded. “I _know_ you’ll like it, and my brother’s a trainer there so we’ll get free entry.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, “but you’re buying me a pizza regardless.”

“Whatever you say, Stilinski,” Erin said. She flashed a bright smile at him, her hair wild in the breezy fall night.

Stiles had met Erin Freedman on his first day of classes at George Washington University. She was a force to be reckoned with, all wild brown curls and sharp brown eyes that softened only when she knew you and then only when she had decided you were worthy of her softness. They were both forensic science majors and Stiles had fallen a little in love with her at first sight.

Erin Freedman was also very, very gay. She had informed Stiles of that fact before he had even managed a pickup line, something he was eternally grateful for.

She was also the reason Stiles found himself at a boxing gym, hands freshly taped and gloves on. “Don’t be afraid to really hit the bag,” Erin’s brother Mikey said, standing behind Stiles and occasionally correcting his form. “You look like you’ve fought before.”

Stiles smiled a rueful smile. Yes, he had fought before, just never in a fight that he had ever had a chance to win with his body alone. He had always needed an edge, a weapon, magic. But now, with every punch he threw at the bag, every pushup he did, every mile he ran on the treadmill, and every squat, he pushed himself to be stronger. He knew that he had never been weak, but now he didn’t feel like he would break in a fight.

“Once or twice,” he said, fist connecting with the bag again and again.

\----

Life moved forward; it always does. First semester rolled into the second and Stiles learned that home isn’t always the place you grew up. It had surprised him to find that Beacon Hills didn’t have the same pull on him that it always had; it was just a place to him now. He didn’t feel like he had found home quite yet, but he knew he would eventually.

“You going to the gym tonight?” Erin asked him after class on Thursday three weeks into the semester.

Stiles nodded. “I have to maintain my girly figure, E.”

Erin snorted, her lips pulling into a smile. “You’re starting to look like a freaking superhero. Do I need to check your closet for spandex?”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone,” Stiles said, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders, “I can’t have people discovering my secret identity.”

She bumped against his shoulder as they walked. “Mikey said that you’re starting to get into competition shape. Are you going to, ya know, compete?”

“He hasn’t mentioned any real fights to me,” Stiles said with a shrug; he probably would do it though, if Mikey suggested it. “I bet he’s still mad that I beat him last week.”

As they talked, Stiles felt something unwinding in his chest. Erin had that effect on him; she pulled him out of his own head in a way that almost no one else had been able to. He’d never tell Scott, but she was his best friend now, the person he leaned on and he let lean on him.

\------

“I think you should enter an amateur tournament,” Mikey said one afternoon while he and Stiles sparred. “You’ve been training for a year now, and you’ve grown about 4 inches since you started; you’re starting to look scary.”

“Says the dude who’s easily 250 pounds of pure muscle,” Stiles said, easily dodging the punch Mikey threw and getting him in the ribs. “I’ll think about it.”

“There’s a local one the second week of the new year,” Erin said, leaning against the ropes and smiling her signature shit-eating grin. “I signed you up.”

“That’s in six weeks,” Stiles said, accepting the towel she handed him and shucking his gloves. “Think I’ll be in fighting form by then?”

It was a rhetorical question; Stiles was in fighting form now. He had hit a late growth spurt that summer and now stood at an easy 6’3” and 220 pounds. He carried it well and looked every inch a fighter when he stepped into the ring. It didn’t hurt that he had started training with a couple of Rafe McCall's FBI buddies a couple days a week, too.

Erin snorted, “I think I could still kick your ass.”

“Probably,” Stiles said with a smile and a shrug. “Grab some gloves and we can try it out.”

“I’ll pass; last time we sparred you had me on my ass in thirty seconds flat,” Erin said. “How about you get your ass on a treadmill and do your cardio?”

“What, are you my trainer now?” Stiles asked, but he listened to her and jumped out of the ring to get his cardio in.

She nodded and grinned. Why was he friends with her again?

\--------

“There’s a new chick that started coming over Christmas while you were gone,” Erin said instead of hello. Stiles had been dealing with her abruptness for long enough to know that she wasn’t being rude, she just wasn’t one for pleasantries.

“My Christmas break was alright; Dad and Melissa are moving in together which is pretty weird to me since Scott and I barely talk anymore, but we’ll make it work. It’s not like I’m ever moving back to Beacon Hills. Thanks for asking, Erin; you’re so thoughtful,” Stiles said with a smirk as he tossed his bag into his locker. It had his name on it and everything.

“I talked to you everyday while you were home,” Erin said, voice exasperated. “You told me all of that already. I, on the other hand, didn’t tell you about hot new chick yet.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but sat down on the bench across from his locker to start taping his hands. “You have until my hands are taped to tell me about her.”

“Perfect!” Erin said, grabbing his hand and helping with the taping. He could do it alone, but it was easier when someone else assisted. Back when he had first started boxing, he hadn’t bothered with taping, but after Mikey made him do it one time, he couldn’t go back.

“So I’m here, minding my own business,” Erin said and Stiles laughed. Erin never minded her own business; it was impossible for her. “Shut up! I was, I swear.”

“Okay, go on,” Stiles said with another laugh.

“Whatever. I’m here and this girl walks in by herself which wouldn’t be weird except I had never seen her before. New people almost always come in with someone who already works out here,” Erin said quickly. Stiles knew her well enough to know that he shouldn’t interrupt her while she was on a roll, so he just nodded.

“And she’s cute, so I watched while Mikey chats her up and gets her signed up for a membership, and then when he offers her a few training sessions she just kind of laughs and says she’s good,” Erin said, “and then she goes over to the heavy bags and spends a good hour on a work out that would have put you on your ass.”

“Me now, or me when I started?” Stiles asked, because that was an important distinction. Now, he was good enough to complete on a semi-professional level (at least according to Erin and Mikey) and in the best shape of his life. When he started, he could barely run a mile, and though he thought he was in decent shape at the time, looking back, he really hadn’t been.

“Now,” Erin said and Stiles saw a look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in awhile. Erin had a crush.

“She gonna be in today?” Stiles asked, looking around the nearly empty gym as if this girl was going to pop up out of nowhere.

“Probably; she’s helping her brother move today but she doesn’t like to miss a workout,” Erin said with a grin, “and your hands are good.”

“You’re an angel, Erin Freedman,” Stiles said, standing up and making his way to his favorite bag.

“And don’t you forget it!” Erin yelled and Stiles laughed as he started to work the bag.

This was where he felt most at home these days, hitting the bag and letting out any anger he had through his fists and kicks. Some people worshipped at church, but Stiles worshipped at the gym. His altar was a bench press, his confessional a punching bag.

“Stiles fucking Stilinski?” A voice said, pulling Stiles from his worship and back into the real world. He wanted to be mad; people knew not to interrupt him when he was in the zone, but that voice was so familiar.

“Cora?” Stiles asked, turning away from his bag and saw that Cora Hale was standing three feet away from him, a smirk on her lips.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked, still smiling. It was a weird look on Cora, but maybe this was who she was when she wasn’t fighting for her life. “And are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say hi to an old friend?”

Stiles shook his head and grinned, “Hi Cora.”

“Not to sound pervy,” Cora said, leaning against the bag, “but you grew up nice.”

“You sound pervy,” Stiles told her, “but so did you. Look at those arms; you could tear a phonebook in half.”

“Says the guy who’s got the same build as Captain America,” Cora said, leaning forward and flicking his arm. “Honestly, what happened to that lithe kid I knew back in Beacon Hills?”

“I hit my growth spurt late,” Stiles said with a shrug, very aware of how muscular his shoulders and arms were as he did, “and I left Beacon Hills, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be able to take care of myself.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to punishing that bag,” Cora said with another smile. She seemed softer now, less angry. “We should catch up sometime, if you’re up for it.”

“Your number still the same?” Stiles asked and she nodded. “I’ll text you, then.”

He turned back to his bag and resumed his routine, but his head wasn’t in it anymore. He was reeling from seeing Cora Hale. He hadn’t thought about her in years, and now she showed up at his gym.

“You _know_ her?” Erin asked, picking up padding and pushing Stiles toward the ring to spar. “Stiles, that’s the hot new girl.”

Stiles had to bite back a laugh because Cora could probably hear them from across the gym. “I knew her in high school.”

“Is she gay?”

“Yeah, we didn’t know each other like that,” Stiles said with a laugh, ducking Erin’s swing and hitting her in the padding she had on her hands. “But maybe? I always thought she had a crush on Lydia.”

“Your ex?” Erin asked, dodging another hit, smirking as she did.

“The very same,” Stiles said, kicking her legs out from under her so she tumbled to the mat. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Lydia also had a crush on her then, too. I’m pretty sure 99% of my high school friends fall onto the queer spectrum.”

“We do tend to flock together,” Erin said, accepting his help up. “Well, give me some tips on how to woo her.”

Stiles spent the rest of his workout with Erin pestering him with questions about Cora. By the end, he had dragged up feelings about Beacon Hills that he had forgotten about entirely.

He had forgotten his favorite summer, the one between sophomore and junior year. The one he had spent with Derek and the remains of his pack, looking for Boyd and Erica. He had forgotten about late night research benders at the loft that ended with him snuggled in one of Derek’s blankets on the couch. He had done his best to forget Derek Hale entirely, but now that he was thinking about him, he couldn’t stop.

“Are you going to the library later?” Erin asked as they made their way back to campus together though the cold January air. Stiles shook his head; he was too caught up in his own thoughts to try to study. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Stiles flopped onto his bed when he made it back to his dorm, his head filled with memories of Derek. How had he put off thinking about him for so long? All it had taken was seeing Cora for the floodgates to open and his life to spiral out of control again.

Derek was probably a different person now; Stiles knew that he was. And it wasn’t like he’d see him; just because Cora was around didn’t mean that Derek would follow.

Except apparently, it did, because when Stiles walked into the gym two days later, Derek Hale was standing at the front desk talking to Mikey. Stiles spent a solid thirty seconds gaping at him before someone bumped into him trying to walk past.

“Stiles, we’re going to be in ring three today,” Mikey said, looking up as he walked in. “I’ll be over in a few.”

Stiles nodded and jogged to his locker, dropping his bag and getting his tape out. His heart was racing and he was already sweating. Derek looked _good_. He had grown his beard out and his hair was longer than Stiles had ever seen it. He looked just as muscular under his shirt, though he didn’t look like the weight of the world was on his shoulders anymore.

“New guy looked like he saw a ghost when you walked in,” Mikey said while they warmed up. “Story time?”

“No story,” Stiles said, hitting a bit too hard for a warm-up as he spoke. “Just a guy I knew in high school.”

Mikey gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t buy anything that Stiles had just said, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he ducked Stiles’ next hit and said, “Think you’re ready for your first real fight?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles said, rolling his shoulders and throwing another punch.

Twenty minutes later, he moved from the ring to a heavy bag. He had some emotions he needed to beat up before he did his cardio. Mikey pat him on the shoulder and gave him a knowing look before he hopping back into the ring for his next training session.

“Take it easy on the bag; it never did anything to you,” A familiar voice said from behind him. Derek must have spoken loudly, because Stiles music was up so high that he could barely hear his own thoughts.

Stiles managed to get an earbud out without taking his gloves off and turned to face Derek, music still blasting in one ear, reminding him that this was real and he wasn’t dreaming.

In the span of half a second, Stiles arranged his face into a lazy smile, the kind he wore often these days because he wasn’t running for his life. “Derek Hale, as I live and breathe.”

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek said, shooting him a smile that lit up his entire face. He somehow looked older and younger at the same time, though the younger part might have been the fact that Stiles new had an easy 3 or 4 inches on him.

“Did you shrink?” Stiles asked, looking Derek over carefully now that they were standing close together. “It looks like you shrank.”

“I’m pretty sure you just got taller,” Derek said with a grin, tilting his chin up to look Stiles full in the face. “It’s a strange angle for all of us.”

“I’m used to it by now,” Stiles said with a smile. “Dad hates it, though.”

As if Derek had been waiting for Stiles to mention Beacon Hills or anything related to it, he asked, “How is he? How’s the Pack doing?”

“You could always call Scott and ask him yourself,” Stiles said with a hint of a smile, knowing full well that Derek never would. He left Beacon Hills and that chapter of his life behind him when he moved away; Stiles understood that.

“I wouldn’t want to give him the wrong idea,” Derek said honestly. “I’m not going back there, probably not ever.”

Stiles nodded in understanding, “They’re doing well last I heard. I kind of lost touch with a lot of what’s happening out there when I moved here.”

“Huh,” Derek said, an appraising look on his face. “I didn’t think you’d ever get out of California, but being away looks good on you.”

“Are you sure that isn’t the 75 new pounds of muscle?” Stiles asked, tugging his gloves off and tying them together to hang over his shoulder. “Because I think that and the new height look pretty damn great on me.”

“And the new level of modesty you’ve achieved,” Derek said with a grin that made Stiles’s stomach swoop. “Don’t stop abusing the bag on my account; I was about to leave, but I wanted to  make sure I said hi.”

“I should be wrapping up anyways,” Stiles said, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Mikey will kill me if I overdo it and can’t train tomorrow.”

“You come here a lot?”

“How’d you know?” Stiles asked with a laugh.

Derek just shook his head in a way that was so painfully familiar that Stiles felt his heart clench; it shouldn’t be this easy to fall back into their pattern, but here they were.

“It certainly wasn’t the locker with your name on it,” Derek said as they walked together towards the back of the gym to collect their things and grab their jackets. “This might be a long shot but - well, would you want to grab a cup of coffee sometime and catch up? Two and a half years is a long time.”

“We should probably start now if we’re going to cover all of it,” Stiles said sagely. “If you’re free, that is.”

“I’m free,” Derek said quickly, like he was afraid Stiles would change his mind. “Know anywhere good? I’m still trying to figure out the neighborhood.”

“You live around here?” Stiles asked, a little surprised. They were a few blocks from Dupont Circle, and Stiles knew how expensive the rent on the apartments around here could be; he had looked into moving off-campus and quickly backtracked when he saw the price tags.

Derek nodded and said, “I’m still trying to get over how tall you got.”

“The last time you saw me I was 17 and only an inch shorter than you,” Stiles pointed out with a little smile. “It’s really not all that surprising that I’m taller than you now.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Derek said as they walked out of the gym. Stiles pointedly ignored the look that Mikey was giving him, but subtly flipped him off behind his back when Derek wasn’t looking.

Stiles knocked his shoulder into Derek’s gently as they walked down the wintery street, snow falling lightly. “I’ll never get over snow.”

“You should come with me to my cabin in Upstate New York if you like snow,” Derek said with a little smile. “I think we had about three feet when I closed it up to move down here.”

“Upstate New York?” Stiles asked, trying and failing to hide the curiosity in his voice. Derek had talked more in the last fifteen minutes than he had in most of his time in Beacon Hills. Stiles was greedy to learn more.

“A lot happened after I left Beacon Hills,” Derek said, pushing the door to the coffee shop open and holding it for Stiles. “I needed to find my center after I split with Braeden, so I went back to the pack that took me and Laura in after the fire.”

“I always assumed you guys were in New York City,” Stiles said, stepping into the line. “I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Derek’s face softened a little as he looked at Stiles. “We can fix that.”

\-----------

“So rumor has it you went on a date,” Erin said, appearing outside of Stiles dorm without warning. He hadn’t even made it back to campus after his coffee outing with Derek and she was already on him; fucking Mikey and his big mouth.

“Greatly exaggerated,” Stiles said, swiping into the building and waving at Pete the security guard.

“I don’t know,” Erin chided, “Mikey said the new guy looks at you like you hung the damn moon.”

Stiles had to bite back a laugh at that before he replied, “Derek doesn’t look at me like that; it was just to catch up.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Erin said, jumping up onto Stiles’ bed with a smile. “And you better be getting a good night's sleep since we have less than a week until the fight.”

\---------

The week leading to the fight passed in a blur of classes, the gym, and seeing Derek at the gym. They hadn’t seen each other outside of the gym since getting coffee that first afternoon, but not because Stiles didn’t want to. He had just been so busy getting ready that he hadn’t had a second to spare, but he wasn’t upset about it; this was something he had been working towards for a long time now. It was something just for him.

It felt like Derek got that, like he would love to be getting coffee with Stiles every night, but he knew that Stiles wanted – no, needed – this for himself. He had even promised to take Stiles out to dinner after the fight, but only if Stiles wanted to. The timing for Derek’s arrival in D.C. had been almost perfect.

For the first time in his life, Stiles felt complete. Not like Derek was here to complete him, but like things were finally going the way he wanted. He was doing great in his classes, Rafe and his FBI buddies had really taken Stiles under their wing to help him prepare for his internship that summer, and he felt like he finally fit in his own skin.

“Have you told your dad about the fight?” Erin asked as she taped Stiles’ hand in the locker room. The crowd outside was loud enough that Stiles could hear them from where he sat, his leg shaking nervously.

Stiles shook his head, “I don’t want him to worry. Plus, he’d just tell Scott and the rest of the p- group back there and it would turn into a whole thing.”

In truth, Stiles hadn’t told his dad for a few reasons, the biggest one being his dad had no idea that Stiles was boxing at all. He and everyone else in Beacon Hills still knew Stiles as he was in high school, not who he had grown into. Sometimes it made him a little sad, but then he remembered that, in life, you could only move forward, and he had some great people that he was moving forward with.

“Well, Mikey and I will be here to cheer you on,” Erin said with a grin, helping Stiles stretch and warm up. “Who knows, maybe someone else will come too.”

“Nah,” Stiles said as he started down the hallway to the ring. “You coming? I’ve got a match to win and I think I need my trainer for that.”

She flicked him in the ear before they both walked out into the ring. It wasn’t like one of the Vegas fights with cameras flashing and everyone dressed to the nines, but it was like nothing Stiles had ever experienced before.

“Ham it up for the crowd,” Erin said as Stiles shed his warm up jacket and tossed it at Erin before punching the air a few times, his back muscles rippling as he did. He could hear yells and cheers from the crowd as he shook hands with his competitor and put his gloves on.

“You got this, kid,” Erin said before the ref started the fight.

It was like the rest of the world shut off as Stiles danced and dodged punches. He was acting on instinct, his body moving before he had fully processed where he needed to move. He managed to land a few solid punches before the round ended, and he made his way to his corner where Erin gave him water.

“Watch his footwork,” she said as Stiles stood up. “He gives himself away when he tries to fake you out.”

Stiles nodded and went back to his position. The next three minutes flew by; it was all punches and dodging, body shots and gloves against jaws. He felt like there was fire racing through his veins as he managed a particularly good right hook to his opponent's face when he had him on the ropes in the second round.

The third, fourth, and fifth rounds were pretty evenly matched, but Stiles could tell the other guy was getting tired and his hits started to get lazy. He left his side open and Stiles got a good kidney punch in that he thought Mikey would be proud of. He felt more alive and free than he ever had in his life.

At the end of round 6, the ref declared Stiles the winner, hoisting his arm up into the air and Stiles felt like his face was going to split in half from smiling. There was the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, and he was going to have bruises on his ribs and arms tomorrow, but none of that mattered.

Without thinking about it, his eyes swept the crowd to find Mikey. When he spotted him, Stiles’ jaw dropped because standing and cheering next to Mikey were Derek and Cora. They were all screaming and cheering, making Stiles’ stomach flip. Derek gave him a big smile and a small wave before Stiles ducked out of the ring and followed Erin to the locker room.

“I told you you’d have fans,” Erin said, slinging an arm around his waist and squeezing him. “You looked good out there; want to do it again?”

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles said with a laugh, “but maybe not for a few weeks; I’m going to be sore as shit tomorrow.”

“Hopefully not too sore,” Erin said with a smirk, “because Derek was looking at you like he wanted to pin you to the mat.”

Stiles threw his sweaty towel at her. “Fuck off, Freedman, let me ride this high without you bringing me down.”

“Figured that would bring you up,” She said with a laugh, ducking out of his reach. “Shower and go get your man. It’ll be easier for me to seduce his sister if I have an in.”

She ran out of the locker room at that comment, leaving Stiles with his thoughts and a hot shower. The hot water poured over him and he smiled to himself. He had just _won_ his first real fight, and he had done it for no one but himself.

And maybe it didn’t hurt that Derek and Cora had seen it, that he had some tiny piece of his old life in his new one, that those pieces would never try to pull him back to Beacon Hills because they had left it behind, too.

There had been a time when Stiles had resented Derek because he felt like he was the reason that his life had turned upside down, but now he knew better. He understood that there wasn’t one singular reason for his life being the way it was, only that he was incredibly happy with where he was.

When he was dried and dressed, he slung his bag over his shoulder and left out the back entrance of the building so he could avoid the crowds that were likely still there watching the next fights.

“Sometimes I look at you and can’t believe how scary you are now,” Derek said, pushing off the wall and walking with Stiles, a smile on his face that made Stiles’ stomach flip over. “Then I remember you went after two alphas that had fused into one with nothing but a baseball bat.”

“Are you saying I was always scary?” Stiles asked, enjoying the way they could slip into conversation without any of the awkward pleasantries.

“I’m saying you were always a little dangerous,” Derek said, bumping his shoulder against Stiles’ gently. “Mostly I’m glad you’re channeling it into something besides chasing supernatural creatures on school nights.”

“Only on holidays and weekends, Derek, I have to maintain my GPA,” Stiles said and Derek laughed. It was a sound that Stiles didn’t think he’d ever get used to.

“Think you’ll ever get back into that world?” Derek asked. His voice was light but the air felt heavy, like his answer to this question mattered, and it probably did. Derek couldn’t leave that world behind because he would always be a werewolf. If Stiles said he didn’t want to be in it, he knew that Derek would respect that and leave him alone.

“I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Beacon Hills for more than a visit,” Stiles said, carefully watching Derek’s face. His expression didn’t falter. “But there are things you can’t un-know, things you can’t unsee, and I think it’s my job to take what I know and help people.”

Derek nodded and said, “You didn’t really answer the question.”

Stiles stopped walking before he spoke. “I’m on a pre-law enforcement track at GW, and I’m interning at the FBI this summer in their newest division; it’s not open to the public.”

“Is it a supernatural division?” Derek asked.

“Something like that,” Stiles said, walking again. “The FBI, NSA, and CIA have all started recruiting me. Apparently, Beacon Hills is on their radar and they all want the kid who ran with wolves and banshees and kitsune and lived to tell the tale.”

“And what do you want?” Derek asked, eyes bright.

“Dinner would be nice,” Stiles said, leaning closer to Derek as they walked toward the Metro. “Then I’d like to go home with you and make out until we both fall asleep; maybe you can make me breakfast tomorrow morning if it all goes well. After breakfast, we might even have some real fun.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Stilinski,” Derek said, voice rough. “I think you know I’m not here just to have fun or mess around.”

“And I think you know I’m not either,” Stiles said, reaching out and grabbing Derek’s hand. “So, dinner seems like a good place for us to start.”

After a pause, Derek nodded, squeezed Stiles hand, and said, “Mikey says you like Gino’s Pizza over near the gym.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”  
  
As they walked Stiles felt a weight lift off his chest. Being with Derek felt right, like it was the next step in his life, like he was supposed to be here in D.C. with him. Derek felt as right as fighting did. He made the rest of the world go quiet in a way Stiles didn’t realized he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](exhuastedpigeon.tumblr.com)


End file.
